


falling like a star (falling where you are)

by ratherembarrassing



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherembarrassing/pseuds/ratherembarrassing
Summary: She hasn’t been in her life fordays, not at work, not at home or the bar, not with the people she cares about who don’t fight by her side, becausesomeonethought it would be a good idea to sell captured gil’dishpans on the black market without a clue as to who or what the alien portal creatures were. But as the events of the week start to fall away to a memory, she wants back into her life. Shewants–





	

**Author's Note:**

> @swashbucklery on tumblr prompted me: Kara and Lena, making out on top of that desk in her office.
> 
> that the desk is a piece of flimsy crap that would absolutely break was implied, trust me.

It’s been a _long_ week.

It drags at her heels, weighs down her cape as Kara makes her way from the DEO bunker back towards National City. In the distance, the lights of the city guide her way, and she’s grateful for it as sleep is calling her name.

She just has to get home, and she adjusts her trajectory a little to the south as she gets closer, aims for her neighborhood and her bed and the angle of the city shifts, rearranges itself into a different view and the L-Corp building is _there,_  the sign neon-brighter than all the rest. She doesn’t _decide_  to go so much as she just  _does,_  a slight arc around a cluster of buildings downtown and then she’s landing on Lena’s balcony.

It’s not the most graceful of entrances.

Okay, she stumbles, but she’s tired, and, more than that, she’s messy with eagerness. She hasn’t been in her life for  _days_ , not at work, not at home or the bar, not with the people she cares about who don’t fight by her side, because _someone_ thought it would be a good idea to sell captured gil’dishpans on the black market without a clue as to who or what the alien portal creatures were. But as the events of the week start to fall away to a memory, she wants back into her life. She _wants_ –

Her less-than-graceful landing gives her arrival away.

Inside, Lena turns in her chair, sets down the tablet she was reading from, and at the sight of her the weight of Kara’s exhaustion and longing twists in on itself, rearranges at an elemental level, and something of what she’s feeling she finds reflected back in the look painted across Lena’s face.

That look makes her slip.

By the time she’s pushed through the unlocked door, Lena is standing by her desk, bare feet on the rug and her hair let down in the late, late hour of the end of a week, and Kara stops in her tumbling rush because this frenzied need in her fingers (in her heart) feels too big, too difficult to control, too much to be safe.

“Hi,” she says, the sound subdued compared to the roaring of emotion behind it, strangled as Kara attempts to rein herself in with a grip that vibrates and shivers.

Lena wants no part of Kara’s control, smirks in the face of her restraint. She reaches across the final distance, now so, so small, wraps warm fingers around Kara’s shoulder, at her neck, where her suit doesn’t cover her skin, and Lena’s fingers settle against the flesh, curl and dig and drag Kara in.

“Hi, yourself,” she says and pulls Kara against her, mouth hot and demanding.

And she was fooling no one but herself, to think that she could be restrained, measured against the overwhelming flood of _whatever this is_. She doesn’t dare name it, not yet, not when it’s so new and still, some unimaginable how, growing, but it’s there in the feel of this woman against her, around her, arm at her neck and hand at her hip, and Kara _goes._

Lena stumbles in her arms, feet shifting to keep her balance until her knee bends, Kara tilting forward with the movement, to settle against the desk behind her and it’s good, _better_  because now her hands aren’t just holding Kara against her but moving with purpose. The best, because now Kara can work her hands into Lena’s hair, cradle her head so Kara can keep kissing her, drawing her lip between her teeth in a way that has Lena arching against her and, oh–

She doesn’t hear the crack.

There’s too much happening around her with Lena’s breath against her mouth and her own blood pounding in her ears competing with the throb of Lena’s heart against her chest. There’s just a moment where the warm press of Lena’s body against her is suddenly _not_ , and her heart stops for an eternity before she remembers herself, and her grip shifts, pulling all of Lena into her as the desk beneath them collapses to the ground as Kara keeps them afloat.

“Oh, my–” Whatever she was going to say is drowned out by Lena’s laughter. “I am _so_  sorry, I–”

“Oh,” Lena manages, eyes starting to tear up as her laughter grows, “you should see your face.”

It hits her wrong.

She pulls them both up, settles Lena on her feet and disentangles her arms. Behind her, the desk is destroyed, snapped clean in two where the desk curves into its legs, and Kara is mortified. It’s hardly the worst thing she’s ever broken, at least she didn’t manage to hurt Lena in the process, but it was– they were– it’s ruined the moment.

And it was probably expensive, and Lena thinks it’s _funny_.

The tears that sting her own eyes aren’t from laughing, maybe aren’t even from anything but how tired she is, how much she just wanted to kiss her girlfriend for the first time in days.

“Hey,” Lena says, then repeats it again when Kara turns away, amusement evaporating into a soft, sorry sound. “It’s okay, Kara, the desk doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No,” Lena says, catching her hand. “If we’d been hurt, maybe, but–”

“I can’t get hurt,” Kara argues, but it comes out sulky, and she really should have just gone home to bed where no one gets hurt and nothing gets broken.

“One less thing to worry about then.” Lena pulls at her hand now, and Kara lets herself be turned, head bowed to avoid Lena’s gaze, and she watches Lena thread their fingers together. “If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.”

“What?” Kara’s head jerks up at that. “No, you–”

“I was the one sitting on the desk.” Lena gives her a slow look now that Kara is looking at her, eyebrow quirking in challenge. “ _My_  ass did that.”

And she knows what Lena is doing. There might even be some truth to it, and she lets out a breath, tries to let Lena’s amusement at the situation settle her feelings. She tries to let it go. “But–”

“That’s right,” Lena interrupts. “Besides,” she adds, leaning up to press a gentle kiss against Kara’s cheek, nuzzling softly against her jaw. “I hated that desk.”


End file.
